


Scarred

by Alterius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff, Gen, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 19:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alterius/pseuds/Alterius
Summary: Noctis doesn't like talking about the scar that put him in a wheelchair for months, but that doesn't stop Prompto from seeing it.





	Scarred

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two, I love their dynamic and I'm writing more lately to gear up for NaNo, so here's something short and sweet. No idea if they're heading into romance territory here or just buddies—you're free to determine that on your own. 
> 
> Big thank you as always to my wonderful fiance, [Lavi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lascivus), for helping me with the final touches. If you have any requests for more cute nonsense between these two, you're welcome to hit me up on [Tumblr](http://www.alteriius.tumblr.com/).

Noctis never liked the attention his scar gave him, even as rare as it was. It was an old wound that marred his lower back, stretched down his leg and stopped before his knee, but gave him problems anyways. It was days like these, when the weather was neither wet nor cold, that it was easy to forget about for a little while.

What makes forgetting  _ difficult  _ is Noctis making the stupid decision to change into his pajamas with Prompto lounging in the bed behind him. Though he’s staring down at the game he’s playing on his phone, Prompto’s known for nothing if not his inability to hold his attention on any one thing for a long period of time—and naturally, he glances up at an inopportune moment. 

Prompto doesn’t say anything that gives away what his gaze has found, but his breath hitches like a thorn’s caught in his throat and Noctis  _ knows _ that violet blue eyes have found the messy scar scrawled across his back and down his thigh. Noctis couldn’t hope to guess what had caused Prompto to catch sight of the ugly, marred skin, but he knew he wanted Prompto to forget about it, to go back to his game.

But as a moment of silence passes between them,  Noctis knows he can’t be that lucky, even as he’s pulling on a shirt to hide the beginning of the long, thin scar.

“Dude, has— has that always been there?” 

Prompto’s question verges on incredulous, like Noctis could’ve shown him literally anything else and  _ this _ would’ve been the thing that surprised him the most. It’s strange to feel so  _ small _ under Prompto’s gaze, but he knows that his approval weighs heavier than most—and that works both ways, he thinks. 

“Uh, yeah?” Noctis says, an edge of snark in his voice that does little to hide the subtle shake behind it, the one that begs Prompto to move away from the sensitive subject that had stolen away his mobility for months, that still caused him problems to this day. “You need glasses, Prom?”

“I wear contacts, Noct. I just don’t spend that much time staring at your royal highnass.”

The joke puts him at more ease than Prompto can possibly imagine—or maybe he can. Prompto plays a good fool, but he’d be a bad best friend if he wasn’t plenty aware at this point how  _ easy  _ it was for Prompto to pick up on subtle shifts in the atmosphere.

Prompto’s lips quirking into a smile only serves to further push away the anxiety taking hold of his heart. It’s contagious and familiar, like every part of Prompto, and he finds his smile forming just as fast. 

“But you  _ do _ stare at it?” 

There’s a shrug of slender shoulders, but Prompto doesn’t throw himself back into his game like he normally would and Noctis can’t help but feel it’s something of an  _ omen _ . It doesn’t take a genius for Noctis to understand how much he  _ wants _ to ask, but he hasn’t. Not yet, anyways. 

“Gotta make sure you haven’t lost it yet.”

“Asses don’t  _ run away _ , Prom.”

There’s laughter this time—bright and fulfilling, reminding him of why Prompto has become such an  _ essential  _ part of his everyday life.  _ Gods _ , what would he do without the guy that carried the sun on his fucking shoulders?

But as bright a grin as he wears, the two of them have become close enough that he knows when there’s something dragging Prompto down and it lays a guilt on Noctis twice as heavy as any question he could think to ask. 

“It’s, uh… not a big deal, though. So…” Noctis trails off, wanting to be more assertive, to clarify what he means—what he wants and  _ needs _ from Prompto—but the words won’t come to him. He doesn’t know how to phrase it, can’t figure out how to  _ communicate _ it… and yet… 

“Dude, no, I get it. I’m not gonna bombard you if you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Noctis can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief, a weight pulled off him when Prompto shows no interest in playing twenty questions with him, like so many others who’d caught a glimpse of it had. There was a reason he opted out of gym class and it wasn’t  _ only _ because he was lazy and would rather be sleeping. 

“Can I ask you one thing, though?” 

Noctis doesn’t even want to answer one thing, but he finds himself nodding despite himself and what Prompto asks is far from what he expected. 

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” he asks, gaze moving briefly down to his leg where the scar is barely visible before coming back to Noct’s eyes. Blond eyebrows furrow and a warmth spreads through his chest at the sight of Prompto’s concern. So rare it had been for the better part of his life to see that in the eyes of someone who wasn’t obligated to feel it.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Noctis says, finding sense long enough to flop down next to Prompto on the bed. “Just achy. Not really a big deal.”

Prompto nods and he can see it in blue eyes how much he wants to press, to  _ pry _ , but he doesn’t. But he asked for  _ one _ question and Prompto holds true to that, much to Noctis’s relief. 

But in actuality, Prompto  _ does _ have one more question—one that makes Noctis’s heart swell with affection for his longtime friend, who cares more for others than he does himself, who deserves the same from all those around him.

“Ya know I’m here if you need me, right?”

Whatever’s left of the smiles Prompto’s already created that evening comes back tenfold the moment those words are out of his mouth. A broad grin spreads across his face as Noct finds a sudden interest in his lap more than the sincerity contained in violet blue eyes. 

“Thanks, Prompto.”


End file.
